SIENNA MILLER
The actor becomes an American Woman.
Having spent the past few years quietly impressing in supporting roles, Sienna Miller is back in a full-strength leading role in poignant drama American Woman. She tells Total Film about being front and centre again, shying away from blockbusters, and why those ‘wife-at-home’ roles were important.
It’s a grower, not a shower,” says Sienna Miller with a grin, referring to her upcoming film, American Woman. That cheeky assessment is fair though, both in terms of the expectation-defying, decade-spanning plot that gets its claws into you slowly, and the film’s own journey. The independent drama was shot two years ago and has toured the festival circuit (Total Film first saw it at the Toronto International Film Festival in 2018).
It’s July 2019 when we meet Miller at The Electric members’ bar in Notting Hill. Hunkered down on a sofa, she’s softly spoken but candid, and clearly
still enthused about her experience on American Woman. After a string of impactful but screentime-light supporting roles in a slew of heavyweight films (Foxcatcher, American Sniper, High-Rise, The Lost City Of Z), she’s in almost every frame of American Woman, shouldering a demanding leading role. “I think I have been looking for [this type of role] my entire career,” she says. “They’re kind of few and far between.”
In the film, which is directed by Jake (son of Ridley) Scott, Miller plays Debra, a working-class single mother, who’s
also a grandmother at 31 years of age. Deb’s scratching out an existence in a small Pennsylvania town, and her somewhat irresponsible life choices draw disapproval from her mother (Amy Madigan) and sister (Christina Hendricks). Everything changes when Deb’s daughter disappears. The film follows Deb for the next 11 years, but doesn’t tread the path you might expect: this isn’t a standard missing-person thriller.
“It was really intense, because
I was in every scene,” says Miller, tightly hugging a cushion in her lap. “But I really thrive in that kind of environment, it turns out. I really liked being in control of a character, and not having to make the most of something relatively insignificant and to hope that it’s impactful in the end – which is ultimately harder work than having the space to map something out in its entirety.” Dressed in a khaki jacket and pale pink t-shirt, Miller is clear-eyed and honest when reflecting on the experience. “It was six-day weeks and no money for anyone. It was a labour of love, but it felt so dense as an experience, that I loved every minute of it, however exhausting it was.”
Self-deprecating and pragmatic, she took a practical approach to the all-encompassing demands of the role – Deb changes significantly across the film’s 11-year span, facing various highs and lows – that were redoubled by the low-budget indie schedule. “In hindsight, it feels enormous,” she considers, between sips of sparkling water. “But in the moment, you just have to get on with it, because that’s the way that you’re making a film. And shooting out of sequence? We sometimes flip between the two Debs, or the three Debs, within a week.” Miller had her scripts colour-coded so she could swap between the ‘different’ Debs as the shoot demanded.
It’s certainly a part that’s left its mark on Miller. Not least because of having to face up to the idea of a missing child. “I was really, really hoping the movie would fall apart before,” she admits. “I was just like, ‘Please, please, I don’t want to do it!’ It’s something that you consider if you’re a parent. It’s strangely available to you, the imagining of that. And with those things that terrify me, or feel like nightmares – those are the things I tend to be drawn to.”
Despite the fact it was filmed two years ago (“Oh, independent cinema”), the character hasn’t really left Miller. “I sort of fell in love with that woman. I just wanted to hold her close. I still think about Deb. Where is she now? What is she doing?” She laughs.
“It was the most fulfilled I’ve ever felt creatively in a film, for sure, by a long way.”
Asubstantial leading role for Miller has been a long time coming. The British-American star – who currently lives in New York but still calls London “home” – came to fame in early noughties films including Layer Cake and Alfie, but tabloid obsession over her personal life overshadowed her obvious talent. Since the early days of her career, she has mostly gravitated towards indie material (Factory Girl,
The Edge Of Love), steering clear of blockbuster appearances (G.I. Joe: The Rise Of Cobra being a rare misfire).
This decade she has worked with powerhouse directors (Bennett Miller, Clint Eastwood, Ben Wheatley, James Gray), albeit in smaller roles. Was there any reluctance when it came to taking those ‘wife-at-home’ parts? “No,
I was so grateful,” she beams. “Some of those roles were on sets that Clint Eastwood or Bennett Miller were running, or there were an amazing group of actors. I was genuinely happy to be there, and secretly wishing I had a little bit more to do, yeah. But in that deeply gendered way, you know, I was grateful.”
The 37-year-old actor doesn’t shy away from discussing gender inequality in a matter-of-fact way. She’s extremely calm and composed even when talking about topics that are rightfully rage-inducing.
‘It was the most fulfilled I’ve ever felt creatively in a film, for sure, by a long way’
“Those are pivotal moments,” she explains of the significant supporting roles. “I think being in those films probably changed things, because these great men had seen something in me that other people hadn’t. And if those people could cast me, then why can’t you? Because I think I can do anything, if given the opportunity. So I don’t want to trash those experiences, because I loved them. But it’s frustrating to feel like you’re capable of a little bit more than you’re being able to give.”
Post #MeToo, the industry seems to be shifting in the right direction, even if it’s a slow process. “I think people are focusing on female-led stories, and diversity in cinema,” says Miller. “The numbers were appalling. And it’s changing, as it should do. Because women go to see films. I rarely saw myself represented on film, growing up. I wondered what that would be like, being a man, and having this wealth of heroes available. Mine were all either the wallflower, or you’re drinking and smoking and being glamorous or outrageous or something.”
Miller has always stepped up to the plate when it comes to speaking up. In 2011, she gave evidence to the Leveson Inquiry about phone hacking, and last year she delivered a powerful speech on the #MeToo movement at the United Nations headquarters, describing the latter as “terrifying… I can’t even talk about it”. Has she always had the confidence to speak out? “Speak out? Yes. But to speak publicly is hard,” she says. “I’ve never been good at that. But I’ve been vocal about things. I think I’ll tolerate enough, and then get to a point where I’ll just suddenly have built up enough resentment at tolerating enough, where I will erupt. I know when something is wrong, and deeply wrong. And that I will not stand for.”
Having worked with a bunch of actors-turned-directors (Eastwood, Bradley Cooper, Ben Affleck), you wonder if Miller might use that gift at speaking up behind the camera. “I’ve started having this experience recently where I’ll be in a room with people, and I’ll imagine how I would shoot it,” she ponders. “Which I imagine is the first awakenings of something. But I don’t feel like I’m that close to it. Oh, it’s gender, again, you know? How can I possibly have the right to do more than one job? But it happens now and then, when I read a script and I can see it quite clearly. If I had that experience again with something that didn’t have a director attached, I would consider it. I also don’t mind failing, you know?”
Next up for Miller is TV miniseries The Loudest Voice. Russell Crowe plays Roger Ailes, the Fox News founder accused of sexual harassment, and Miller dons heavy prosthetics to portray his wife, Beth. Given the current climate, it couldn’t be more timely. “I wore four hours of prosthetics, so I was physically transformed in a way that was completely fascinating,” she says. “It feels pertinent to where we are now, to explore that story.” Also on the cards is action-thriller
21 Bridges with Chadwick Boseman. But even that’s not simply a fun high-concepter. “It’s actually quite dark,” she counters. “It’s more of the Lumet-style, old-school cop drama. I want to explore a variety of people. And if I lined up Beth and Deb and Detective Frankie Burns, they’re just not the same person. And I think there’s something in the breadth of that experience that is particularly interesting to me.”
Miller’s heart still clearly lies in independent cinema and character work over blockbusters. “I feel like the roles are better in independent cinema,” she states simply. “On some of the bigger films I’ve done, it’s really more about the movie. There’s not much time spent on rehearsal or character before. And I know there are movies that are massive and probably have directors that work that way. But on the whole, you don’t do an independent film for any other reason than that there’s something in it that you absolutely love
– because it’s a labour of love, and it might never be seen!”
Having crossed paths with some notable MCU filmmakers (Anna Boden and Ryan Fleck directed her in Mississippi Grind, and the Russo brothers produced 21 Bridges), could they maybe attract her to the blockbuster side? “I think I would do it,” she considers. “I mean, it would depend on the character. Maybe a female Joker when I’m 50 or something. Actually, that’s DC, not Marvel. We’ll see.”
That open-mindedness has always been a fixture of Miller’s work, as she didn’t have a game plan at the start of her career, and doesn’t have one now. “I think I’m clearer on what I wouldn’t do now,” she asserts. “And that comes with self-respect and age. I’m also ready to work with great directors on films that would be seen. It’s a hard battle with independent cinema. But I think that’s where my heart will always be. If I read something and
I love it, I can’t not do it. That’s just the way I work.”